Following the village chief proved far easier than Azalea had expected. For one, he made no attempt to move without being spotted. She supposed that in itself would have been suspicious. Best to move as if you weren’t up to anything suspicious, and people wouldn’t assume you were.

He walked quite a ways away from the village in a straight line before he turned off the track. As he did so, he paused, glancing around for the first time, making sure he was alone. Azalea ducked low at once, using the tall grass around her to get out of the chief’s line of sight. Some seconds later, when she thought he might have had enough time to check his surroundings, she peeked her head back up once again.

At first, there was no sign of Old Man Sumba. She looked to the spot where he’d been before but saw nothing. She rushed forward to that same spot, and that’s when she noticed a faint silver thread. She would have thought of that fox girl who used magical threads of a similar color, if this particular thread weren’t wrapped around the trunk of a tree, and stretching across the narrow pathway to the tree opposite. It was very clearly a tripwire. She skidded to a halt, just barely avoiding breaking the fine thread with her foot. She jumped back, just to be safe.

What on earth was going on here, she asked herself. Once again, she cast her eyes around, trying to find the person she’d been tracking. Still no sign. Then there was a faint sound behind her, and she turned, wondering if maybe he’d realized he’d been followed. How would he confront her, the person who had caught onto his treachery? But it wasn’t Old Man Sumba standing behind her. No, it was a taller figure, broader in the chest and with powerful arms. A familiar figure, from a fight more than a month old.

Captain Matlin, The Last of the Felarians, stood less than four feet behind her, easily within reach of the longsword that he held bare in one hand. His cold grey eyes were locked onto her, and his head was tilted ever so slightly, almost as if he couldn’t remember who she was. There was a dangerous, cold light in those eyes, she saw, the look of a man on the verge of attack. Then, slowly, a thin smile spread across his face, and his chin lifted.

“You’re the girl that killed Arcifex.” There was no hatred in the sound of his voice. If anything, he sounded amused. “And now, somehow, you’ve caught on to the plot of my allies. You are a very clever one.”

“Thanks,” she said, unable to think of any other reply at the moment. She resisted the temptation to glance to the sides and see how many allies he’d brought with him. If it was just him, she might have a chance to escape. But she didn’t look away, out of fear that he would strike in that small window.

“You should join us,” he added, which surprised her. “I could use such a crafty woman among my lieutenants.”

It was all Azalea could do to avoid laughing in his face. No sense in provoking him. If she could pretend to consider it long enough, she’d be able to get away. She might even be able to sabotage his goals long enough to put an end to him permanently.

“Let the girl go.” that was Sumbariki’s voice. She didn’t have to turn to see him, for he appeared out of thin air right beside Matlin, his eyes locked on the taller figure. “She poses no threat to you.”

In an instant, the air of good humor was gone, revealing the fury beneath it, fury that was barely under control. Matlin raised one free hand and smashed his heavy gauntlet into the side of Sumbariki’s head. The old village chief fell to the ground with a grunt of pain, but he did not cry out. Nor did he seem in the least bit cowed as Matlin’s rage broke over him.

“You do not issue me commands!” Matlin screamed down at Sumbariki. “I am the General! I do as I please!”

Sumbariki rose from the ground with some effort and swiped a hand over the cut on his forehead where the gauntlet had struck him. He shook his head, seeming more sad than anything. “I will not allow you to torment the Visitors. It is bad enough that you employ many of them, but that is their choice, so I will not interfere. But you will not impede the freedom of the Visitors.”

The Visitors. It was the first time Azalea had heard the term within the context of this game, but she knew at once it referred to the players who had logged into Project Terra. She filed the word away for future reference but kept her wits about her, watching the exchange between the two men.

“You’ll do as I say,” Matlin shouted, his volume only rising higher, “And you can’t do anything to stop me as long as I’m holding your son, Sumbariki!”

And then Azalea understood. The reason that Old Man Sumba didn’t seem the type to betray his village is because he wasn’t the type to betray them. Not unless he was forced to. Not for the first time, she marveled silently at how complex, deep, and real the NPCs of this game felt. Not all that surprising, considering the theory they’d formed a few days ago.

“I know for a fact that you cannot break your vow,” Sumbariki replied, a cold tone overlaying his words now. Despite the clear difference in strength between the two men, Sumbariki stood without fear, as if he truly believed he couldn’t be harmed. “You are sworn to defend the Felarians until your dying breath, and never to harm them.”

They sounded like empty words to Azalea, but they had a marked effect on Matlin. He staggered back away from Old Man Sumba by a pace or two, as if suddenly terrified of him. Shaking his head as if to clear away some dark specter, he screamed in rage again. “I am the General! I am the Last Felarian! There is none who command me!”

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“You are commanded by the very being that created you!” Sumbariki snapped, his voice momentarily rising in volume to match Matlin’s. “You cannot disobey Marcine’s command, any more than the Guardians or the Malevolent Clan can!”

Even as she absorbed the two new titles, Azalea noticed Matlin’s distraction. Old Man Sumba made a subtle shooing gesture at her, and she took a step back, then another. Now she was out of the reach of that longsword. As long as Matlin didn’t lunge, she added mentally. Caius’ constant lectures on positioning and movements rang in her head, and she took another step, this one to the side. Matlin noticed the movement.

“Stay where you are, Visitor girl!” He screeched. At these words, two figures dropped out of nearby trees, landing lightly on their feet, and holding longbows with arrows knocked and drawn, aiming directly at her. “Take one more step, and you die!”

“You will not impede her freedom!” Sumbariki shouted. Then he turned his eyes to the two archers and spoke again. But this time, his words had an odd ringing effect, as if there were some magical effect to them. “Lower your weapons!”

Immediately, the bows dropped, and the bowstrings were released so that the arrows posed no threat to her. A second later, at Matlin’s scream of a command, they were raised again, and the arrows drawn back. Both men seemed to have equal authority over the archers. She recognized them all as Terrians. Something was clearly going on here, something important. If only she had the time and ability to investigate further.

“Go now, child,” Sumbariki told her. “I will delay their pursuit long enough for you to return to the village. You must be present for the raid. Tell them what you have witnessed here if you wish, but it is imperative that you defend the village from this coming raid.”

She nodded her understanding. She still wasn’t quite sure how to feel about this event but knew that she had to get back. She could warn the village from anywhere that she found herself, of course, but she really didn’t want to die and have to reclaim or re-make all her equipment. She was trying to avoid her first death in the game as long as she could, especially with a raid coming up within the next day.

So there was really only one option, she thought. She was sure Sumbariki would do his best to hold them back. But they reacted to Matlin’s orders quickly enough that they might still be able to get a shot off against her. So, before they could recover from the confusion of the overlapping orders, she had to act.

“Okay,” she said. “But when you come back, you’re explaining all of this to us. We can’t stop him if you don’t cooperate with us.”

Sumbariki nodded slowly, considering her words. “Perhaps. Though you are still outsiders, it may be that you are trustworthy enough to learn more about the way our world works.”

Matlin moved first. “Kill her!”

“Do not raise your weapon!”

Azalea lunged to the left, moving backward and sideways at the same time, pulling the spear from its harness on her back and running it through the chest of the archer to her left in one smooth movement. Never before had she been so grateful to have spent hours practicing her weapon and learning fighting tactics under Caius’ instruction. By now, they were finely engrained instincts, powerful enough to wipe her mind clear. That was the difference, she thought, finally achieving the answer she’d sought for some weeks. She was comfortable with fighting now because she’d experienced it. That blissful moment of quiet before she struck. It was almost predatory, but it was more calming. Here, at last, was a part of her life she had control over.

The bandit she’d targeted went down with a choked scream, dying very quickly. By the time his body had exploded into a tiny pile of coins and items, she was already turning to face the other archer. She smacked the bow out of his hands with the butt of her spear, then jumped back as he pulled a knife free, her spear’s longer reach giving her the victory over this second fight. He fell with a wound to his neck.

She sensed, rather than saw, the other figures rising out of their hiding place in the tall grass. Nine fighters, four mages, and two figures that didn’t seem to have a clear purpose. One of those last two held a man by the collar of his shirt, a knife at his throat. She recognized the hostage as a member of Sumbariki’s family. That had to be his son. She ran in that direction, both because she wanted to free the man and because it was her best chance at escaping. An arrow whipped past her ear, but she paid it no mind.

“Don’t come closer!” The bandit holding Old Man Sumba’s son screamed. Now that she was closer, she could see that there was a name and a guild name over his head. Another player. That explained why he didn’t fit one particular build. Only the Terrians seemed to limit themselves to one role or fighting style. Sumbariki was already moving as well, now that he had visual confirmation of his sun. Azalea heard him shout something, but in the fury of the battle, she couldn’t make out his words.

By pure instinct, Azalea knew she wouldn’t reach the bandit player with her weapon in time to stop him from striking down Sumbariki’s son. Instead, she did the only thing that felt natural at the moment and threw out her free hand. A blast of air fired from her palm, knocking both men back. Then another gust, this one not of her creation, snatched the chief’s son into the air. He gave a shout of surprise but seemed unharmed. A second later, the air that had picked him up formed a visible sphere. The other player tried to strike at him, but his blade was reflected by the sphere, and it seemed the son was safe.

“Kill them all!” Matlin screamed, now driven past reason. Then, an arrow appeared out of nowhere, burrowing itself in his shoulder, staggering him a few paces, and turning his sound of fury into agony. Then another spell fired down upon the bandits.

“What?” Matlin screamed, looking around. “How? You were fighting my forces!”

“Think again, motherfucker,” Azalea heard Oscar’s voice say from above in the trees. “We knew you were up to something nearby, we just couldn’t find you. Now we have, and now you’re done.”

Then, more figures were appearing. Not just more bandits, but more players. At first, it was only a few. Then a couple dozen. Before her reason could catch up with her senses, Azalea found herself right in between two attacking forces; nearly two hundred figures on the side of the bandits, and seventy-odd players who had risen to the defense of Silver Village. In a matter of seconds, this small confrontation had turned into the largest raid she’d witnessed before.

A blur of movement, of blue metal, rushed past her. Caius! Before Matlin even knew he was there, he’d rammed into the enemy leader, smashing his shield into the black-armored warrior’s face. As Matlin stumbled back a second time, he let out a challenging roar. “Come on! Let’s put an end to this, you worm-loving asshole!”